


Owlpost

by FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But Not The Pining That You're Thinking, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, F/M, Flawed People Loving Other Flawed People, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse/pseuds/FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse
Summary: When Narcissa had asked him how Hogwarts house interunity initiatives were working out, he'd remarked,The Head Girl charmed the lights in our dorm to flicker red and green as a compromise.On whether or not he was enjoying his studies:My marks are great. The Head Girl roped me into a strict studying regimen.Like a compulsion to bring her up, as if Hermione Granger wouldn't be real if he didn't conjure her at least once a day.That had been the case with Andromeda, too, looking back on it now. Narcissa hadn’t understood it then, hadn’t known enough to be alarmed when Ted Tonks’s name started to crop up.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 33
Kudos: 182
Collections: Dramione Valentine Exchange





	Owlpost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneValentineExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneValentineExchange) collection. 



> Happy Valentine's @dreamsofdramione! *unbetaed and unalphaed, please excuse my mistakes* I didn't have as much time as I wanted to write this--the dialogue needs fleshing out--so I consider this a WIP. I will accept critical comments!  
>   
>  **Prompt:** A Second Chance

  
The owl arrived at the eastern window of the morning room where Narcissa sat every day to read the news. Though it had been decades since she’d last seen the grey owl, she immediately recognized who the bird belonged to, and she did not need to see a name to know that the envelope between the talons was for her.

Years and years she had spent wishing Andromeda would send her a letter. When Andromeda eloped, wretched the entire affair may have been but Narcissa did not feel that their separation had been final, and so in her mind she did not say her goodbyes. She had been convinced that her sister—her sharp, shrewd and capable older sister—would come to her senses, beg for forgiveness, coax and cajole their father to weave her name back in the family tapestry. But in the months after, Andromeda remained absent. 

In that silence Narcissa allowed herself fantasies, always of her sister’s arrival preceded by owlpost, telling them that she was in another continent or another country where the trains broke down and civil unrest shuttered the portkey offices, the reason why it took her so long to return to them. And soon Andromeda would be home, waving off her dalliance as the grand finale of her rebellious phase—did they really think she was going to throw it all away for a man, and a weak man at that? 

As time went on Narcissa thought maybe the letter would come to her specifically, secretly. _Please, Narcissa, I couldn’t turn to anyone but you, yes, you, it is you who can lift me from my debasement,_ was how that letter would start. Oh how Narcissa would rise to the occasion then! In her stories she would be the one to find her sister, the one to shush her apologies, the one to mark this chapter of their lives as bygone. Her mother would cry as her father greets them at the door. Even Bellatrix would be impressed. All would be well.

It was only years later, when Andromeda made the society pages on _The Daily Prophet_ and it had not been news of her divorce but an announcement on the birth of her daughter, who had Andromeda’s dark eyes that blinked blearily in the photo that Cygnus incendioed as soon as he saw it—it was only then that Narcissa understood how childish her hopes had been. 

There had not been a single word from Andromeda, until now. The letter lay in front of Narcissa like a Yule wish granted, except twenty years too late. They have spent more time apart than together at this point in their lives.

Narcissa offered the owl a treat, then broke the envelope’s seal. She read the letter in its entirety. It was very short. One line, actually, a request. Narcissa did not quill a response. Eventually the owl hooted and, empty-taloned, flew away. 

* * *

Narcissa made her way to the Manor’s foyer—a significant arrangement had been made to open up the link to her sister’s floo—but when she arrived at the fireplace, she saw her son standing in front of it, holding a bucket. 

Draco turned to her and tilted his head at the flames. “You just missed Pansy.”

“Oh! Please tell her she's always welcome to join us for the holidays.”

“She's ringing in the new year across the channel.” He added, “That's why she was here. She dropped off—”

Narcissa looked at the bucket he was holding and saw the slick, swirling strands of gems inside. “Are these—what _are_ these?”

“They’re bloodstone worms.” 

“I must say that's a very unusual Yule present. Full of surprises, that Pansy. But”—she winked at her son—“we like that about her, don't we?” 

“Oh no, no, she's only asking me to look after it as a favour. It's not a present for me, it's her Valentine’s project for Longbott—”

“No matter, my darling. Sorry to hear about you and Pansy. Ah, but I’m late.” She kissed her son’s cheek, and moved towards the fire and the floo powder. “Let's talk about it another time."

She knew of course that Pansy did not hold Draco's interest. Perhaps once, briefly. But she had seen, upon Lucius’s sentencing to Azkaban, that Pansy and her son were leaning on each other with the skin intimacy of two people who no longer held any mysteries for each other, who had nothing to offer but comfort. Draco and Pansy grew up together and lounged about, to Narcissa’s dismay, like siblings.

No, Draco's interests lay elsewhere. She’d known her son to be subtle and self-preserving enough to hold his cards close to his chest. But it’s almost as if he lacked self-awareness in this one thing, oblivious to the message he sent whenever he made a comment about the Head Girl in conversations that didn’t require her to be brought up at all. When Narcissa had asked him how Hogwarts house interunity initiatives were working out, he'd remarked, _The Head Girl charmed the lights in our dorm to flicker red and green as a compromise_ . On whether or not he was enjoying his studies: _My marks are great. The Head Girl roped me into a strict studying regimen._ Like a compulsion to bring her up, as if Hermione Granger wouldn't be real if he didn't conjure her at least once a day.

That had been the case with Andromeda, too, looking back on it now. Narcissa hadn’t understood it then, hadn’t known enough to be alarmed when Ted Tonks’s name started to crop up. In spite of the transgression against their family’s legacy, Andromeda didn’t whisper his name as if confessing. No, Andromeda had talked about it like the most natural thing in the world. _Ted said my penmanship is lovely, but I think that yours is so much better, Narcissa—Fortescue’s opened and Ted and I got ices the last Hogsmeade weekend; you should try the honeyed nightberry!—Ted said that he wanted to buy me this ribbon because its colour complimented my hair, isn’t that silly? It’s just a darker shade of brown than mine._

They’d grown up with presents and excursions and compliments all the time. No alarms went off, and quick as a blink Narcissa lost a sister. 

She did not know what to make of this chance to reconnect with Andromeda. It had taken Narcissa a full day to respond to her letter.

~~_Dear Andromeda, My regrets but I cannot make it_ ~~

~~_Dear Andromeda, No._ ~~

_D ~~ear Andromeda, I never said goodbye because you never gave me the chance.~~_

~~_Dear Andromeda, I buried mother and father and Bellatrix, how could you write only now?_ ~~

~~_Dear Andromeda, Once I took a wrong turn at Hogsmeade and I found myself at a poor part of town, and I was overwhelmed, realizing that I had no idea where you lived, and what if you appeared in front of me, beyond help?_ ~~

~~_Dear Andromeda, Are you in trouble?_ ~~

~~_Dear Andromeda, Maybe an afternoon at the Tyrian instead of your home? My treat?_ ~~

_Dear Andromeda_ , she finally wrote. And at the bottom, simply: _Yes._

* * *

Narcissa barely walked out of the fireplace when Andromeda took her into her arms, not even waiting to flick the cascading floo-dust off Narcissa’s cloak before pressing her face into Narcissa’s cheeks, her hair. What one could say after twenty years, Narcissa didn’t know, choosing instead to focus on the tight clasp of her sister’s hands, as Andromeda stepped back and said, “You look well, sister.”

Andromeda, in the flesh, at last! Narcissa's chest tightened at her sister’s slight form, at the years that announced themselves as wrinkles on her face. She looked older, Narcissa thought, older than her age. _Weary_ , that was the word for it. Narcissa said, more out of politeness than any real sentiment, “You have a lovely home.” Then, an afterthought: “Thank you for inviting me.” 

Andromeda led her away from the fireplace to another room, one that was damp and covered in streaky wallpaper, with a window too singular to provide a pleasant view for the small table and the few chairs next to it. A kettle whistled and Andromeda excused herself, slipping over the counter that, to Narcissa’s surprise, divided the rest of the room into what seemed to be the entirety of the kitchen. It struck Narcissa how the stove was less than thirty paces away from the table, and then she understood that Andromeda had to do all her own cooking and serving, that she had no elves to help her at all.

Narcissa wondered what burdens Andromeda had to take on as a penniless wife and mother, and how she’s left bereft even of those roles as a widow, childless and alone. She must be raising her grandson all by herself now. How horrible to have no one to turn to! For a second she admired her sister’s strength, imagining the ways that Andromeda had hardened herself to endure all these years.

There must be a way, Narcissa thought, to provide for her sister’s needs, and to transfer the funds most discreetly, to spare her pride: no Black would accept anything that had even a whiff of charity.

From the stove, Andromeda asked, “How are you holding up?”

“It’s been a wonderful Yule so far, with Draco home from Hogwarts.” 

"Lucius is in Azkaban.”

“Yes,” Narcissa said. Andromeda brought over their cups and saucers. Narcissa wondered if she should offer to help—what was the protocol in households that had no elves? 

Andromeda levitated a plate of gingerbuns, and finally sat down. “It can’t be easy, you being alone in that gigantic Manor.”  
  
“Oh I keep busy with my garden. Soon it will be spring, you must come visit.” Narcissa admitted, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Andromeda poured their teas, her hands precise and graceful, like their mother’s. “My one regret, all these years, was leaving you. I felt like I failed you in some way.” 

Before Narcissa could console her sister and gift her with forgiveness, Andromeda continued: “Believe me, I've often asked myself, 'What if I had been braver and taken Narcissa with me?'”

At this Narcissa startled, because she could not make out what her sister was talking about. 

“In my fantasies, I rescued you from our parents' clutches,” Andromeda continued. "I thought of you all the time, stuck in that house. And of course I thought of Bellatrix, too. But in my saddest moments my mind mostly went to you."

Narcissa hoped her smile was patient, reassuring, but her surprise made her face feel like it was drawn tight. “Mother and Father may have been strict, but they wanted the best for us. They loved us, I’m certain.”

“Of course they loved us. You can love and still be horrible, Narcissa. Surely you know that.”

And Narcissa thought: no, I don’t.

“Do you remember Silky’s popcakes?” Andromeda asked.  
  
Narcissa shook her head.  
  
“The honey popcakes we were never allowed to have ever again. The new Monegasque ambassador once flooed in and you came down the stairs with honey on your cuff. Mother locked you in your room all day for forgetting your cleaning charms.” 

“That can’t be right, can it? I don’t remember that.”

“You were five years old.”

“Mother _did_ fuss sometimes.” Narcissa remembered her mother charming her braids until not a single stand was out of place, when the house elves could have done that for her. But wasn’t that an act of love?

“I couldn’t bear it. Did you know I dreaded coming home for the summer?” Andromeda asked. “I just wanted to be away. I saw a chance and married the first boy to show me affection. Now that was ill-conceived.”

“Ah, was your husband a brute to you, then?”

“No, no. Ted was wonderful. But that’s luck, isn’t it? Ted was the best man I’ve ever met. But elopement? At 17? An idiotic idea.” She sighed and shook her head. “Except I was so desperate to get away from our family.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Andromeda.” 

“Mother loved you best, out of all of us.”

“Did she? It’s strange to think of Mother having a favourite, any favourite.”

“Yes. She liked you best because you were graceful, and she thought herself graceful too.”

“She loved you, too, and it broke her heart—”

“But maybe that made it worse for you, being loved the most. Bearing the pressure of pleasing our parents, being in their good graces.” Andromeda’s eyes roved over Narcissa’s face. “I still see it, you know. How you never laugh without placing your hands in front of your mouth.”

“Well—that’s only polite, isn’t it?”

“You always worried what the family thought, worried about what was proper.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with our parents.”

“Nobody ever talks about how heavy a burden a parent’s love is.”

“I give Draco everything he wants.” Immediately she hated how defensive that sounded. "He knows I love him, no matter what. I tell him so.”   
  
“Of course.” Andromeda looked towards the photographs on the the mantle, the pictures of her family waving and grinning at the camera. “I told Nymphadora every day. And now it’s up to me to tell Teddy.”

Narcissa had Bellatrix entombed next to her parents, instead of at the Lestrange plot next to her husband as tradition dictated. Narcissa realized that she would never be able to tell Andromeda, just as she could never ask about Nymphadora's grave. 

Some things you just have to bury inside you, never to be unearthed again, for your peace of mind.

“I would like to meet your grandson some time.”

“I would love for him to meet you. He’s at Grimmauld Palace right now--the Potter boy promised to take him flying this afternoon.” 

“Grimmauld! I hear Aunt Walburga’s painting can’t be charmed quiet to this day. Aunt Walburga—now _she_ was a hard parent.” Narcissa smirked. “Imagine if she had been our mother instead.”

“You know, when I pick Teddy up, I sometimes see Draco at Grimmauld.” 

“Oh?” Narcissa put down her teacup. “I had my doubts but I must commend the Hogwarts house interunity initiative then.”

“It seems he’s friends with Hermione Granger.”

“Hmm. It’s good to have friends in many places.”

“He’s been seen spending a lot of time with her.”

“He’s often seen with a lot of girls.”

“He’s never been seen with Gryffindor girls before though has he?”

“Maybe he’s exploring his options.”

“Maybe.”

‘Or, he’s curious. You know how young people are—flitting about, nothing serious.”

“But what if it becomes serious?”

“His association with Ms Granger doesn’t mean anything.”

“Why would it not?”

“Draco hasn't told me anything.”

“Narcissa, I want you to consider—”

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything—”

“I am nothing like our parents, Andromeda. I would never—” Narcissa tried to still her heart. Her throat felt hot and sharp. “Draco would never—” 

Narcissa closed her eyes, She could hear her blood in her ears, but that did not drown out Andromeda asking, “Are you going to make him choose?” 

* * *

Later, Narcissa found Draco in his study, poring over a book.

She bent down to hug him, and he leaned into her. She looked into his eyes and said, “If there’s something for me to know, you’d tell me, wouldn't you?”

“What’s the matter?” He looked alarmed.

“Nothing. Only I’ve been thinking.” She wanted to explain—but what could she explain? “Whatever mistakes we may have made, your father and I only want what’s best for you.” 

“Oh, Mum,” he said.

“Nothing means more to me than your happiness. I wouldn’t be able to bear it, if I lost you. You know that, don’t you?”

She waited for him to answer, to nod and confirm that he trusted her, that he knew she would always be in his corner, that this home was a safe port for him, but he did not.

He only looked stricken, and then she knew that the silence meant that there was nothing that her son could say—no matter how lovingly, how carefully worded—that would not arrive to her as pain, which she must push through but never admit to, even as she comes out of it on the other side, as she had always done.

* * *

Years later Andromeda would be drying her dishes when she would see the owl coming to a perch just behind the slats of her kitchen blinds. 

She would not need to open the envelope of heavy cream cardstock to know that inside it was an invitation—one that Narcissa had told her was coming when she visited earlier that week—requesting the honour of her attendance to her nephew’s wedding to Hermione Granger.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to dreamsofdramione for this generative prompt. And thank you to the mods for their tireless work.
> 
> I didn't have as much time as I wanted to write this--the dialogue needs fleshing out--so I consider this a WIP. I will accept critical comments. 
> 
> I don't own HP. Silky's popcakes belong to Enid Blyton's Faraway Tree series.
> 
> I tumble as [badcouldbeverse](https://badcouldbeverse.tumblr.com/).


End file.
